


Drowning without You

by Wordywizard



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Slight Canon Divergence, Soulmate AU, Witch Trials, medival england
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27308035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordywizard/pseuds/Wordywizard
Summary: Andy and Quynh are soulmates who share pain between them.when Quynh gets drowned by the English Andy has to cope with Quynh's pain at the bottom of the ocean for 500 years.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova & Quynh | Noriko, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, background joe| Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky|Nicolo di Genova
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter one: Drowned

**Author's Note:**

> This idea originally came from a discussion with the fabulous @moonlightandromache on Tumblr.

The town was a squat little place with mud roads and caved-in roofs. Along with the church with its filthy stained glass windows, the main attraction of this town was a series of gallows, pyres, and torture chambers for the sole purpose of punishing prisoners. The last message Niccólo and Yusuf received from Andromache and Quynh said that they were heading this way, but it had been three weeks, and they hadn’t heard anything from the pair. As they rode into the town on their chestnut mares, they searched the town frantically for the bellicose pair.

“Niccólo, are we sure they’re here?” Yusuf gestured vaguely at the bloody streets.

“They did say they were going to Gaybourne and this–” Niccólo waves his hands about, “–is Gaybourne.”

“Right.” Yusuf bit his lip thoughtfully. He stroked the horse's neck absentmindedly. “We should find where they were staying.” He pulled back the reins on his horse, bringing him to a stop.

“We could-”

“Are. Shit, I meant are,” Yusuf interrupted. 

“Of course. We should ask about the town.” Niccólo eyed the villagers suspiciously as he pulled to a halt beside Yusuf.

“Hey! Have you seen two women come through here? They have black hair,” Yusuf shouted at a villager passing around here.

The villager didn’t even acknowledge them, just scuttered off. Yusuf and Niccólo were near a small dirty tavern and from the light leaking out of its grimy windows the heat of the fire was just visible. The front had a battered sign reading ‘The Cunning Carrot’. Inside, one could hear the sounds of drunkards singing and barkeeps muttering.

“Rude... How dare they ignore you,” Niccólo muttered. 

“Habibi, it doesn’t matter. We could see if someone in that tavern, The...ah...Cunning Carrot, knows anything about them,” Yusuf replied. Had they been in Gaybourne for any other purpose, he would have attempted to crack a joke about the tavern’s name.

Yusuf and Niccólo dismounted and tied up their horses on a hitching post by the run-down tavern. With a quick pat, they left their horses and entered the building. The inside was half empty, and patrons turned to eye them as they entered.

“Hello!” Niccólo shuffled his feet awkwardly as the whole patronage stared daggers at him.

“My companion will have one of your finest ales,” Yusuf said as he sat down at the bar. Niccólo followed and sat beside him on a pair of worn leather bar stools. Yusuf reached for his money pouch and placed a single coin on the bartop. 

“None for you, traveller?” The barkeep inquired as he poured Niccólo a grimy glass of beer.

“I don’t drink, but thank you.” Yusuf shifted in his seat.

“Ah, thank you. We’re looking for some passer-byes that came through town three weeks ago. Have you seen any?” Niccólo asked. He sipped the beer furtively and set a few coins down on the bar by the bartender.

“The last passer-byes was a bunch of fuckin’ witches, so I do hope you're not _affiliated_ with their kind,” the barkeep said accusingly. He furtively polished the glass he was holding. 

“Of course not. Niccólo, we must have the wrong town!” Yusuf replied performatively. He rubbed his hands together and eyed Niccólo, who was chugging his drink aggressively.

“What happened to these witches? We wouldn’t want to run into any of them while travelling,” Niccólo added, quickly finishing his drink with a grimace. 

“We hung them, but they used their dark magic to survive. We were finally able to get rid of one of those two witches, and the other seems to be under control if a bit loud.” The barkeep grinned to reveal yellowed teeth.

“That’s fantastic,” Niccólo replied, quickly as he pulled Yusuf down from the chair. 

“We should be going to make it to another town before it gets dark,” Yusuf apologized as he quickly left the tavern. Niccólo threw two copper coins onto the bar and followed Yusuf out. 

The sun was dipping in the sky, and the scent of the sea drifted in with the tide. They fell down the steps from the tavern and onto the street. Yusuf pulled ahead, grabbing Niccólo’s maroon tunic by the sleeve and pulling him into a small alley. Niccólo hit the stone wall with a grunt. They stared at each other in disbelief and terror.

“ Niccólo…my sun…” Yusuf buried his head in his shaky hands. “This _can’t_ be true…”

“I don’t know. What do you think he meant by ‘go rid of’?” Niccólo reached to grab Yusuf’s hands.

“It means that one of them is dead and…” Yusuf gulped painfully and shook his head. He could not stand the thought of either of them left alone in the world without the other. If he was in their position, he was sure it would break him. 

“Or she’s just trapped somewhere,” Niccólo interrupted feebly. He knew about Lykon. He knew they weren’t invincible.

“Possibly.” Yusuf raised his furrowed eyebrow and bit his lip in consideration. “But what else could he have meant?”

Niccólo thought frantically for a moment about what Andromache would say in this situation; she was much better at leadership than either of them. “It changes nothing. We have to find them.”

“You have a terrible Andromache impression, Niccólo, but you’re right,” Yusuf admitted with fabricated playfulness.

“I'll find the jail, and you try to dig up where they took our other sister,” Niccólo said.

“ _I_ should probably find the jail, and you search for her; the locals will probably say more to you, considering...you know...” Yusuf insisted. He waved his hand about slightly to emphasize the point.

“Oh...Of course. Yes, I’ll Meet you back here in an hour, then.” Niccólo replied sheepishly.

* * *

They parted ways without further conversation. Yusuf squared his shoulders and looked for the sturdiest building in town, as it was bound to be the jail. He set down the street looking for stone and iron. He would have pretended to be a violent drunk, but he had already told the barkeep that he didn’t drink and Yusuf was categorically opposed to pretending he was a liar. Reaching the main road, one of the few made of stone and not mud in various stages of drying, he resolved to ask one of the villagers.

“Would you know where the lock-up is?” he asked, smiling politely as the gruff older woman in mud-splattered, ill tailored clothing eyed him up. 

“Outside the castle, if you can even call that ruin a castle, but they aren’t keeping folk there anymore,” she replied, gripping her basket tight in her hands.

“Why, may I ask?” Yusuf inquired with a put-on smile. 

“They’re keeping them, witches there. I mean you wouldn’t want your ordinary drunkard in there with them, would you? Never know what those vipers can do. Why are you asking?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine. He got a bit drunk and… decked a guy,” he said.

“They probably will just tie him up outside for the night and let him go in the morning, so just leave him,” she told him as she turned and walked away, muttering something about useless men and their drink. 

Yusuf looked around for a castle, and after several minutes picked out the ruddy fortress with collapsed walls and hollowed interiors glinting in the distance. The only structures still properly standing were one wind-beaten tower and a small stone building nearby. Without thinking, Yusuf ran down the street and through muddy alleyways till he found himself in front of the rotted out castle quite a ways out of town. He arrived by the encampment panting and sweating. He collapsed onto his knees to catch his breath.

The place was swarming with priests and soldiers. There were about ten people around the small stone building with a heavy, studded wooden door. It looked like many had just left, probably with one of the immortals. The sky behind him grew dark as a storm began to brew.

He crouched in the grass by the castle, considering his options carefully. His hands shook with righteous fury; how dare they hurt his family? He could take them out effortlessly, but even considering what they had done to his family, it wasn’t an appealing option. Yusuf was lightly equipped with his scimitar and small dagger, which were not ideal for the situation. 

Yusuf pulled out his sword and took them out from the edges. First, a pair of soldiers by a ruined castle wall laughing about only having to deal with one of those damned witches that he executed with quick and practised strokes. Then, he stole one of their short bows and fired an arrow into the throat of a soldier atop the one standing tower. He felt odd using a bow when he could be about to find Quynh after nearly a month. He dropped the bow and resumed his stealthy approach.

Four guards stood at the door of the stone jail, leaving three people beside them to deal with. With a quick scan he located one, a priest, and though he would not generally kill someone unequipped, he needed to make sure he’d have as much time to get whoever was in there out which necessitated no witnesses. After the priest, he found another pair of soldiers by what served as an entrance. He’d have to deal with the priest to get rid of the rest of the soldiers. He stuck to the shadows as he approached the priest and slit his throat with his scimitar. 

Moving forward, he approached the soldiers who were standing on opposite sides of the old worn road, just close enough that Yusuf could hit both of them from the middle of the road. Picking up speed, he slashed the first man in the throat with his scimitar and turned and stabbed the other in the chest while bent in a bow stance. The first man fell to the floor, clutching his throat as he choked on his own blood. Dropping his stance (and the stealth), he turned to deal with the four by the jail. He grabbed a helmet and threw it at the wall, distracting the guards for a moment, thus allowing him to get closer. 

He hit fast, knocking the first soldier down immediately with a bare knuckle punch. He just as fast got punished for his haste with a sword through the throat. Though he was down for a moment, he woke up, grabbed his sword off the dirt floor, and stabbed up with the blade of his scimitar into the first soldier’s throat. Then, he got back up on his feet and met the two stunned soldiers, who were edging away, face to face. With a sigh, he punched the first guy in the stomach and cut the other just under his breastplate. The first got up and swung his axe at Yusuf, who nimbly dodged it and punished the action with a cut on the back of the soldier’s neck. The remaining soldier swung again, hitting Yusuf hard in the chest. Instinctively, Yusuf pulled out the axe and threw it aside. He stabbed the remaining man through the chest swiftly. Panting from the effort, he fell into a crouch by the door to the jail.

Inside, he heard sobbing intermixed with screams and heavy breathing. His hands shook as he reached for the massive iron doorknob. He steadied himself with a deep breath before turning the doorknob. It was locked. _Fuck!_ A feeling began building itself in his chest, and it almost felt like drowning. He tried to open it again and failed.

“Fuck! Quynh! Andromache! I’m here, just give me a minute.” 

Yusuf ran back and shoulder barged the door. He hit it with a crash, but the door did not give in. He tried again and again for minutes; from the other side, the crying had only gotten worse. The panicky, desperate feeling had reached his throat, and he wanted to scream, to shout, to do _something_. Looking behind him, he found an axe from the soldiers, and he snatched it. Picking it up in his haste, he cut himself, though he did not notice. He went at the door like a man possessed, and with each hit he made another small crack in the wood. Eventually, he had made a hole in the wooden door. Without thinking, he broke through it, giving himself uncountable splinters and saw… Andromache.

He’d never seen her this way. She looked rough, smudged with soot, blood, and tears. She had been straining against her bonds which were sturdy metal affairs. Yusuf stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide in amazement. 

“Andromache…” He gasped. He ran over to her slouched, weak form. “Andromache…”

‘Yusuf! Quynh…they took her,” she shouted in a raw voice. Tears stung her eyes. Normally, she’d never have let Yusuf or Niccólo see her like this, but right now, all shame was forgotten in her pain.

“I know, I know. Niccólo is looking for her…Is she?” Yusuf fell to his knees beside her and pulled her in close. 

“Is she what?” she asked with ragged breaths. She stopped pulling on her chains as Yusuf held her.

“Alive?” he whispered as he held Andromache’s head against his chest. She went quiet.

“I think so…” she whispered faintly. 

“If I untie you will you be able to get up?” 

“Where is Quynh?” she asked through tears. She was crying so hard her entire body was shaking from the effort. The tears that had mixed with her blood formed a salty stinky sludge. Her hands and feet were cut to shreds, her throat had angry red marks around it, and her back was wet with blood from whippings.

“Can you walk?”

“Quynh…” Andromache whispered. Her breath was still heavy and shaky.

“I know, I know,” he replied. He pulled Andromache’s hair out of her face. “Can you get up?”

“Chains,” she muttered.

“I know, but if I unlock the chains can you walk?”

“I-” 

“Yusuf!” Niccólo stormed into the room breathless and shaking. “...Andromache!”

“ Niccólo, did you find her?” Yusuf asked.

Tears clouded her eyes, but she looked at him hopefully through them. Her body shook from exhaustion.

“No. Yes. I know where she is,” Niccólo replied. He sank to his knees on Andromache’s other side.

“Then why haven’t you found her!” she yelled, her voice raw and broken, between rising sobs. The soot that clung to her face was slowly being washed away by her neverending tears. It hurt them to see Andromache reduced to this; they had never even seen her cry before.

“Because she’s not here. They...I’m sorry Andromache. They’ve thrown her into the ocean. I don’t know where specifically.” Niccólo placed a hand on her bloody back.

“We have to find her!” she sobbed hysterically. She felt like she was drowning along with Quynh (maybe she was). Her throat begged for air, but no matter how much she gasped for it she came up empty. 

“We know, but-” 

“But what?!” 

“We have to get you out of here, big sister,” Yusuf said. He felt the tears growing in his eyes, but he held them back.

Niccólo let go of Andromache and rushed to the chains. He pulled out a set of lockpicks, setting to work quickly. He wasn’t good at picking locks, so it took a while. In the time he was working away on the lock, Andromache cried into Yusuf’s tunic. Yusuf held her as he, too, cried softly. Yusuf moved his cloak to cover her.

“Why is it taking so long? We have to get out quickly,” Yusuf bristled. 

“Sorry, I’m not very good at this,” Niccólo said through tears. The tears had made the operation even more difficult but finally, he was able to unlock all of Andromache’s shackles. 

“Alright, we have to get out of here. Niccólo, did you bring the horses?” Yusuf asked.

“I brought mine, but I'll go back and grab yours,” Niccólo replied, turning to leave the room.

“Be back quickly,” Yusuf said.

“Quynh…” She gulped. “Quynh…”

“I know, I know.” Yusuf pulled a bottle of water from his waist. He poured some into his hand and thumbed away the dirt from her face. 

“It should have been me. It should have been me,” she muttered.

“Andromache no,” Yusuf replied. 

They went on like this for fifteen minutes, Yusuf holding Andromache as she slowly fell apart even more. Yusuf cried silently as buried his face in Andromache’s strangely skinny form. Yusuf worried that someone would find them, or that Niccólo would be captured retrieving the horse, but he grounded himself with her weight however light she had become.

* * *

They tried to get her to stand only to catch her as her knees buckled on her. Andromache didn’t even try to get up. She laid there on the cold hard stone floor, staring at the ceiling. She’d finally run out of energy to cry or even to speak. As unnerving as it was to see her cry too, it was even stranger to see the ice-cold demeanour that came over her, and similarly unnerving to see the formerly stubborn completely docile. They had to move, so Yusuf carried her bridal style alarmed by just how light she had become. 

They placed her on the back of Niccólo’s horse. It was well dark by now, which offered them secrecy in their movement. They headed out fast, with Andromache leaning against Niccólo more than holding on and Yusuf keeping the pace with them. They all felt sick about leaving Quynh, but they had to move. Niccólo and Yusuf knew Andromache was in no shape to fight, even though she couldn’t disagree with them about it. Riding down the dark wooded path, they felt the missing piece of their little army, and it ached desperately. 

“Andromache...We’ll find Quynh,” Yusuf reassured her.

“We’ll start looking for her tomorrow when you’re a bit more yourself,” Niccólo added.

Andromache stayed as silent as the moon. 


	2. A Taste of Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromache, Yusuf, and Niccólo make camp out in the wilderness and Andromache begins to deal with the aftermath of losing Quynh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry chapter two took awhile, life got busy.

They spent the first night after Quynh’s abduction was spent on horseback. The silence cut through them as they rode into the woods. As daylight broke, they stopped deep in the countryside that was hardly traversed. Niccólo and Yusuf pitched tents. They put up their standard two tents, one for them and one for Andromache and Quynh, unconsciously. Andromache silently began to untack the horses. She brought the two mares to a bit of pasture near the campsite and tied them to a tree. 

The place was lightly wooded, but it faded into thigh deep grasses and flowers near their campsite. The soft elusive smell reminded Andromache of her day’s hunting with Quynh. They were far away from any city or town and it brought a certain calm to all of them; there would be no hiding here. The sun peeked into the sky, full of false promises. The dirt path they took seemed tiny and insignificant in the sublime presence of mother nature. 

Andromache felt as if a part of her soul was missing; it hurt like the crushing pressure of the ocean. She collapsed onto the ground by the horses. Her hands trembled and her chest heaved; she wanted to do something with them, but she also felt the weight of exhaustion pushing down on her.

“Andromache…” Yusuf whispered behind her. 

She jumped in surprise. “Yeah…”

“We set up the camp.” 

“Oh good,” she said flatly. She held in her growing impulse to gasp and to pry at her throat.

“Look, Andromache, if you need to talk, we’re here for you.”

“Alright.”

“I mean it.” Yusuf grabbed her shoulder and squeezed it before turning back towards the camp.

She got up and went to her tent. It was a small canvas affair with a large soft wool blanket and wolf skin thrown haphazardly inside. It was infested with memories of passionate nights with Quynh. She threw herself onto the floor, still encrusted in blood and dirt. Though she shook with hunger, she could not stir herself to check the saddlebags outside or the woods for berries. 

“Andromache, you can stay with us toni-oh, there’s a small pond nearby if you want to clean yourself up,” Niccólo said. 

“Where?” she murmured. She stretched out and yawned quietly.

“to the north northwest, just a short walk away,” 

“Thanks.”

“My other offer is still open,” he called as he left the tent.

He wandered to Yusuf, who was kindling a small fire to cook the little bit of food Niccólo had scavenged. Watching them hurt her worse than any stab wound. She was alone, and they had each other. At least they hadn’t tried to tone it down, because that would have cut even worse. She hauled herself north, stumbling and numb. She only noticed that she’d arrived when her still bare feet felt wet. She clumsily pulled off her long white shift that went down to her shins and threw it with a weak toss onto land. It fell short, and the hem ended up damp. Nevertheless, she walked further into the deep reedy pond.

Eventually, without really intending to, she was in the middle of the water and slowly sinking below the surface. Putting up no resistance to the pull of the water,it dragged down her emancipated exhausted bloody body down. It felt almost natural. She was finally  _ actually _ drowning instead of just feeling like she was.

Her whole body finally sank under the surface of the water. She began to panic, to flail, but she was so tired that she didn’t have the strength to get anywhere. She pulled her head above the water only to get pulled back down. 

It was almost like Quynh was pulling her down into the water. 

She struggled for a minute, but eventually sank back under. She tried to scream underwater, but couldn’t make any noise. She gasped and took a full breath of water; it hurt, it burned, but it felt a little different than what she had felt since Quynh first began to drown. She took another breath of water before she finally passed out, beginning to turn blue as she floated face-first to the surface. Her body shook as she drifted towards land. Eventually, she was still in death.

* * *

She hammered on the iron of her prison. She felt so tired, but still, she beat her bloody fists against the coffin. She breathed water in, and it felt to her like two people were drowning instead of one. Her eyes burned from the salt and her body shook from the cold. Her throat was on fire. She could barely hold a single coherent thought, but with every ounce of her being, she begged Andromache to find her, to save her soon. She fell unconscious and then she inexorably died only to wake and repeat the endless, painful cycle. 

The first thought in her mind was a plea that soon became a mantra and some way to mark the passage of time in her monstrous prison. Seconds became meaningless only the repetition held meaning in her salty grave.

“Andromache, where are you? Please come for me. Please. Please.”

* * *

“Quynh!” Andromache woke up screaming. In the sleep of death, she felt her heart, her soulmate, drowning, and just as she struggled back to life, she saw her through the bars of her eternal cage. 

With the fresh death, she gained enough strength to cry but not sob. She could still feel Quynh’s suffering, but it was muted as if from a great distance. It sat in the back of her throat like a weight. The burning ached and hurt, but she knew it was nothing like what Quynh was feeling. Wherever she was in the boundless sea.

She quickly scrubbed herself down with a reed. It irritated her skin, not that she really noticed. She didn’t touch her hair. While she thought about it, it ultimately brought back too many memories of Quynh washing and braiding it after a battle. She choked up a bit more just thinking about it, so she threw on the shift and trudged back to camp. She was shivering in and wet from the rain, and her wet footsteps made the dirt she trekked on muddy.As she neared the camp, her feet were blocks of clay. 

“Andromache! We left some clothes in your tent,” Niccólo called out as she came into view. They had made a small platter of roasted nuts, meats, and dried fruit. 

“Than-ks.” She found her voice had grown unreliable with a tendency to cut out. 

She hurried into her tent with the pile of clothes; it consisted of a fresh white shift, a bleached white shirt, a dark blue leather doublet, and a pair of brown canvas pants. It fit poorly, but overall it still felt like home, and she found herself collapsed on the ground as her eyes forced themselves shut. A dusty warmth bled through her. She fought sleep and what would inevitably come with it, but soon her eyes fluttered shut.

A beam of light hit her face stirring her from her slumber. At the entrance of the tent, Niccólo stood holding a bowl of vegetable stew. He looked down at her and crouched to put the bowl nearby.

“Imm up,” she mumbled through the last vestiges of her slumber.

“Okay, I brought food.” He sat down beside Andromache’s sprawled out form.

“Thanks.” She pulled herself up and then grabbed the bowl. She barely stopped for breath as she inhaled the bowl, effectively finishing in a couple of minutes. All that remained of the thin stew was a thin layer of broth.

“Andromache, do you want me to stay for a while?” he asked.

She turned her head away, trying to conceal her internal discord. He took her silence for a yes and sat down beside her.

“I don’t feel-” She wretched. She was red with fury.  _ I should be able to do this! I’m fucking starving, _ she thought. She collapsed back down on her hands and knees.

“Hey I got you just… just take deep breaths like this,” he told her as he took an exaggeratedly deep breath. 

She mimicked. With each breath, she felt a little better till she was able to sit up and speak again. Her cheeks were still red, but now embarrassment had replaced fury.

“I don’t understand why,” she grumbled, rubbing the last of the vomit off of her face.

“When was the last time you ate?” Niccólo gently prodded. 

“Before I was captured. Fuck!” she exclaimed. She rested her hands in her lap.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Yusuf said as he pulled back the flap of the tent. Niccólo pointedly looked at the small pool of vomit on Andromache’s old shift.

“I see. To be honest, we should have accounted for this.” Yusuf knelt down on Andromache’s other side and put a reassuring hand on her back.

“You’ll probably need to work back up to it,” Niccólo advised. He wanted to facepalm (internally, he did). 

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to go back to sleep,” she half-heartedly said. She felt weak and even more than that furious that she wasn’t suffering more, that she wasn’t down at the bottom of the sea with Quynh.

“Okay, sleep tight.” Niccólo gave a coy smile as he left her tent.

“Look, when you’re feeling better we’ll go back and find her.” Yusuf pulled her into a massive bear hug, the kind that lasted for at least a minute, generally longer. Once he pulled away, he got up and left the tent, taking the wooden bowl with him. Behind him he fastened the cloth door shut..

With weary eyes, Andromache picked up her blanket and warm pelt. She dragged herself to the corner of the tent and threw the blanket over her. Andromache did not know the time of day, but she elected to close her eyes for a second. Slowly, she settled into a soft slumber. Her mind slipped into the comforting haze of dreams. 

She was on a hunt with Quynh in the steppes of Asia. She fiddled with the long spear in her hand, and tossed it from hand to hand. The tall grasses hid their crouched forms as they stalked a mammoth. She threw her spear as she charged and then another and another. Each time she threw a spear a new one appeared in her hand. She pounced forward growing claws and fangs. She bit into the mammoth and tore it to pieces with her teeth and claws. The mammoth’s flesh became sweet like fruit and its blood turned to honey flowing forth like a waterfall. 

She turned back only to see Quynh sinking into the earth, clawing at her throat. She screamed as Andromache ran towards her, but she arrived just as Quynh sank screaming below the earth.

Her nightmare was only interrupted by a stream of light hitting her directly in the face stirring her from her uneasy rest. She felt beside her only finding a cold void.

“Sorry Ands, I forgot to take this,” Yusuf said as he grabbed the shift from her tent. “Sleep well,” 

Andromache rubbed her eyes and steadied her breath, but sleep still pulled at her. Giving into sleep's powerful pressure, she closed her eyes once again, feeling a void wrapping around her the way Quynh used to. Instead of the warmth of her lover’s body, Andromache felt her anguish deep down in the ocean like a ghost was mocking her by pointing out her loneliness. A tear fell down her cheek as she curled up into a knot. The reminder shook her awake and forced sunken emotions to the surface. She sobbed silently to herself till the sun parted through the clouds and she succumbed to sleep. Tossed and turning, she reached out beside her, trying to find her soulmate and finding only dead air. Rest was a fight, and for once, Andromache wasn’t winning it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got to thank pavlovee for beta reading this because she was a massive help

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my Beta readers, Pavlovee and elise_eurora for everything


End file.
